


In Things Unsaid, In Questions Unasked

by coveredinfeels



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3513716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredinfeels/pseuds/coveredinfeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of things Rilienus never said.<br/>There are a lot of things Dorian never asked.<br/>It comes down to three words and one question, though, in the end.</p>
<p>(In which Rilienus is adorkable and nearly as bad at feelings as Dorian, if that's even possible.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From a Dragon Age Kink Meme Prompt that asked for Dorian/Rilienus post-game reunion.  
> Dedicated to adorable flaily OP whose feedback made me just want to write these two dorks for you forevermore.

Rilienus is the youngest of five, and the third son. There's a sort of freedom in that; less expectations, you might say. Or perhaps it gives his mother, with her other children married off and grandsons to boast about already, the breathing space to be able to be kind about his nature. She guides him gently but firmly to focus on his research, and to take a position at the Minrathous circle. It's a good choice, his mother says, if you feel like a wife might be a distraction from your work.

It's the easy path, in other words, and like a coward, Rilienus takes it.

Dorian, on the other hand, is the only son and heir of a Magister, of a house ascendant. The option was never open, that he imagines in idle daydreams; for Dorian to join him at the circle, to argue all the hours of the day over politics, magic, and wine; for summer visits to other circles and field work in ancient ruins; for Dorian's smile, attention for a moment on Rilienus and Rilienus alone.

One of his sisters, in an unguarded moment, once teased him for thinking unchaste thoughts about the Pavus boy, but Rilienus knows it's the chaste ones that would have been the real scandal.

Idle daydreams while Dorian complains over drinks and does reckless things with his body in dark places and scowls when Rilienus fusses (bruise on his wrist, wine-dark). "Worried about the scandal? Worried to be seen with me?" Third glass of wine already and he's barely picked at his food; Rilienus knows this pattern, doesn't take offence. "Worried for you. I'm your friend." A thousand things he could say, but that's the only one that doesn't stick in his throat. _Coward_ , as always.

And then one day, Dorian, more distracted than usual, mentions offhand he's going back to Qarinus. "Father dearest has summoned me. I suppose he intends to resume his attempts to make me continue this farce with Livia."

"Can it really not wait? You'll miss Prisca's symposium."

Dorian laughs. "Your priorities are hilarious. I'll miss-- a lot of things, I'd imagine. _Including_ seeing you unleashed on the unwary students of the Minrathous circle."

"You make it sound so grand. I'm teaching fade mechanics and elemental theory to the first years." Rilienus tilts his wine glass towards Dorian. "At least _somebody_ has given me plenty of practice in dealing with the sons of Magisters who think they know everything."

"The difference being that your students are _wrong_." Dorian winks, refills the proffered glass. "It's good to know, though, that a man like you is in charge of the next generation. Puts my heart at ease. Provided, of course, they don't copy your dress sense."

There's comfort in that old complaint. "There's nothing wrong with these!" Rilienus says, in mock-dismay. "I'll tell you what. I promise to let you drag me to the tailors when you get back. You can make me wear something fashionable and I'll do my best to ignore the fact that I'll undoubtably look ridiculous in whatever it is. Shake on it?"

He jokingly holds out his hand, but Dorian doesn't take it. He almost does, and then his hand shifts, fingers skating for a moment along Rilienus's wrist. "Rilienus, I--" Then he shakes his head, almost to himself. "I'm sorry. I'm not in the mood to make promises tonight."

There is something dark and sad in his eyes. Rilienus knows Dorian struggles with his father, with his expectations, but the hurt isn't usually so close to the surface. Sometimes he tries to say something, but Dorian is always as quick with his words as he is with his spells; deflect, redirect. "Dorian--"

Coins clatter on the table; Dorian's share of the bill. "I'm sorry. I've been terrible company tonight." His gaze is distant. "Another time."

And before Rilienus can find the words to make him stay, he is gone.

Later, he will realise that Dorian never said _when I return_.

* * *

He worries that Dorian will do something reckless; like worrying the sun will rise. Rilienus hears about it in snippets of gossip that, even once you strip all the nasty exaggerations out, still leave him with plenty to worry about.

It's not until Felix Alexius returns from the South that he hears something concrete. Rilienus isn't in attendance for Felix's speech to the Magisterium, but his mother is. Rilienus sends a letter to Felix requesting a meeting, and to his surprise, is invited for dinner.

Rilienus doesn't know him well. Magister Alexius rarely let his son out of his sight, they say, after the darkspawn attack. They've met, yes, at one event or another, and Dorian spoke of him often, but he isn't expecting to be ushered into a private dining room and for the servants to disappear immediately. (Not slaves; even Rilienus knows that gossip-- Felix Alexius tied up a court for an entire day, making Liberati out of everyone from the most trusted house slaves to the stable-boys.)

"Forgive me for my bluntness." Felix says to him. "I'm dying, you see. It focuses the mind. You're Dorian's-- well, Dorian's."

He looks as if he's waiting for Rilienus to deny it, but it doesn't feel like an accusation. _If only_ , he thinks. "How is he?"

A clumsy redirection of the conversation, but Felix permits it. Kind of him. "Oh, like a little ball of self-destruction wrapped in a thousand layers of sarcasm."

"So, the same as always." Rilienus feels himself relax a little. If Felix is joking about it, Dorian must be fine.

"The people he's with now-- they're good people." Felix smiles. "I think he'll do well. Rilienus, I want to make it clear to you - he's not going to come back. It's not just the Venatori. Dorian's father-- I can't give specifics, I'm sorry, but he did something that I can't imagine Dorian forgiving."

It isn't unexpected. It stings more than he expected it to, though. _You saw this coming. Let him go_. Rilienus nods, tries to find words. "Tevinter's loss, then. And the South's gain." He finds himself blinking back tears. Felix is kind enough not to mention that, either.

"Change of topic." he says, instead. "I am busy dismantling and disposing of my entire estate, in part that my irritating, grasping cousin who has been practically circling like a vulture over a corpse will get _nothing_. I was hoping you knew of some appropriate educational venture I could throw some money at. My father used to be a great proponent of proper funding for the circles, you know."

Rilienus's mind immediately goes to one of his students, a sweet, talented Laetan girl whose family had to all but sell themselves to ensure her entry into the circle. Rilienus supports her where he can, out of his personal funds; people think she's sleeping with him, and she asked Rilienus not to deny the rumours because it does her reputation some good. There's a school in south Minrathous run by another Laetan mage who tries to provide Liberati mages with at least some training that won't put them neck-deep in debt to their former masters or obligated to join the army and spend five years facing down Qunari; a similar scheme run by a friend in another circle who's always complaining that nobody will ever fund such a political dead-end. 

"Give me a minute and I can give you a _dozen_. Two dozen. Do you have _any idea_ how difficult it is to get money for any proposal that doesn't directly mention how many Qunari you think your new shiny magic will kill? I have students using books so out of date the section on elemental magic predates the discovery of _fire_ , oh, but Caecaeus must have funding for his latest research because it's of military signficance - and because his father sits on the funding committee, never mind the fact the man probably couldn't find Seheron on a map, let alone--"

Felix's laughter breaks him out of his rant. "Okay, _now_ I see it."

"What?"

"Nothing." Felix smiles. "Write up a list for me-- I will do as much as I can."

They spend the rest of the evening talking about Dorian, sharing old stories-- Felix has some tales from Dorian's time as his father's apprentice that Rilienus has never heard (and for good reason). The next time he sees Dorian--

_The next time?_

* * *

Of course, he still worries.

He worries about demons and cultists and whatever other horrors the south might be throwing at Dorian. He worries about whether or not he's warm enough, whether he's eating right, whether he's drinking too much. He worries more than is entirely seemly about whether or not Dorian has been besieged by a thousand southern suitors-- he had offers enough even here in Tevinter, where it's all secrets and closed doors. In the south, where they're more open, someone like Dorian must have admirers to spare.

It makes him short-tempered. He snaps, uncharacteristically, at one of his first-years (terrible Altus boy, does think he knows everything, technique is sloppy, sloppy, _sloppy_ ). He finds himself unable to resist pointing out all the flaws in Caecaeus' latest theory, and doesn't bother hiding his disdain.

What is the _point_. What is the point in making nice with people he secretly despises; of scraping his way up the ranks so he can help nephews and cousins enter the Minrathous circle over the heads of those with more talent but fewer connections; of anything at all, when there's nobody to lean over his shoulder while he's writing, _you should expand on this, have you tried it with a triptych glyph?_ , or to complain about his tastes in everything _please, let me save you from yourself_ , or to share secret jokes with over a bottle of wine on a warm night _And she seriously titled it Penetrating the Fade? How does she **not know**?_

The worst part is, Rilienus doesn't even know if Dorian ever-- he means, it could just be Rilienus, reading too much into simple friendship. He never asked, did he? He can't presume Dorian ever thought of him than more of a friend; that Dorian, surrounded by handsome southern warriors (he thinks _far_ too much on this point) would spare a thought for his bookish, unfashionable friend.

He thinks about whether it would be possible to send a letter. Of what on earth he would write if he did.

_Dear Dorian,  
I hope you are well and doing great things. As usual I am shut up in the Minrathous circle helping to perpetuate all the things you hate about this place. Please do not fall in love with any dashing Orlesian nobles who may try to sweep you off your feet and keep warm._

Perhaps not.

Skyhold is the name of the Inquistion headquarters. Rilienus could tell you exactly where it is; has traced a dozen routes to get there. It's a ridiculous thought. Rilienus has never left Tevinter his entire life; hasn't even so much as travelled alone, without family or circle officials to organise things. He has, admittedly, no sense of direction, tends to get distracted by thoughts of whatever research he's working on, and can get lost on the journey between the library and his quarters. Left to his own devices, he would probably manage to walk himself off a cliff before he even got over the border.

But the thought lingers. Even if Dorian doesn't-- the Inquisition has mages in their ranks. They might have a use for a researcher, or a teacher. Rilienus is not inclined to martial pursuits, but supervising student duels requires a certain level of healing magic and a reasonably quick reaction time when it comes to making sure stray spells don't go careening through the audience.

He could be of a little use, at least. He could make sure Dorian takes care of himself-- that's a full time job in itself. It-- it might be enough.

(That's a lie; it wouldn't be enough. But it would be something).

He doesn't tell anyone what he's planning.

Of course, he's never been able to hide anything from his mother. He finds out she knows on a visit back home, where she keeps his old rooms as they always were for when he visits. She tells him by coming in and putting a large package down on the bed.

"Open it."

Rilienus does. It contains new travelling robes and boots-- fur-lined, warm. "Mother--"

"I heard it's cold." His mother smiles, sadly. "You've never been one to complain, but I don't want you being cold. I've also taken the liberty of contacting Magister Tilani, who has some connections with the Inquistion; she's supplied a letter of introduction and promised to write to make sure they know you're coming. You'll travel with Dwarven Merchants' Guild caravans-- they're the safest option. Payment has been made _in full_ , and don't let them tell you otherwise."

He doesn't know what to say, so he hugs her tight. "Thank you."

"You're my baby boy. I only ever wanted to protect you." She sighs, stroking his hair. "You've been so unhappy of late, I couldn't bear to sit by and watch. Besides, if I'd let you try to do things on your own, you would have probably ended up in the Anderfels."

"I am not _that_ bad."

"You are, if anything, _worse_. Is it true that when you're on circle business they assign a student whose job it is to keep you from wandering into walls?"

" _Mother_." Rilienus frowns. "I mean, I do usually have an assistant..." For _research_. And note taking. And scheduling. And, yes, fine, usually they offer to be in charge of directions.

"Yes, well, get the Inquisition to give you one. I don't want to hear you telling me you haven't written for months because you got lost in a bog somewhere. On that note, _write_."

"Yes, Mother."

"And tell the Pavus boy that if he doesn't do right by you I will be having words with him."

" _Mother_!" He doesn't know whether to be embarassed by just how much she's figured out or just grateful that she's willing to go so far for him. "Thank you." He thinks he might have said that already.

_I'm going to tell him._

He's thought about it before, but now it feels like certainty. He can't leave things like this. He can't just sit here and let Dorian fade until he's a faint memory, an old regret. Three words. Rilienus can manage three words. Almost certainly.

* * *

There's a note attached to the end of one of Mae's missives. Varric doesn't think much of it, brief as it is:

_Also, please tell Dorian that I am sending him something he left behind when he left Tevinter so abruptly. He really should try to take better care of his things. Should be arriving on the same caravan with that crate-- you know the one I mean. The one you'd rather the Seeker didn't find out about. Keep an eye out._

"Hey, Sparkler," he says, the next time he passes Dorian. "Mae says she's sending you something. Something you left behind? Unspecified. Any ideas?"

Dorian just looks honestly puzzled. "I-- nothing comes to mind, really. I mean, I left quite a lot of things behind, but nothing that Magister Tilani would have access to and that would be so significant to warrant a specific, yet cryptic, message on the matter. Unless she's just sending me some decent wine and thought it would be funny to wind me up on the side."

"Entirely possible." Varric shrugs, and stuffs the letter in a pocket. "That's why she's my favourite 'vint."

"That hurts, Varric. I thought I meant more to you. I am _wounded_. I may never recover." Dorian says, hand on heart. "Ooh-- maybe it's brandy. She has excellent taste in brandy."

Varric thinks nothing more of that exchange until he heads up to intercept one particular caravan when it arrives, to make sure things that doesn't need to be on the official manifest are not on the official manifest. Nothing major. He doesn't expect Cole to suddenly appear out of nowhere, vibrating with barely-repressed joy. "He might be able to say the words now. He hopes so. Hoping is _good_."

"Kid?"

But Cole is gone, and then there's an unfamiliar human mage (the staff gives it away) lowering himself from a caravan with the cautious movements of one who is really not used to doing this. He's Tevinter, that much is clear-- although unlike the Inquisition's favourite I'm-not-a-magister he's dressed much more practically. Both sleeves exist, for a start. Hair long and tied back at the nape of his neck with the minimum of fuss. If he was one of Varric's characters, he'd probably be the (naughty) librarian.

Varric has a suspicion about this one. A suspicion that is only confirmed when the man sees Varric and comes to greet him with a nervous little bow. "Are you Master Tethras? I am Rilienus Pacenti. Magister Tilani said you would be expecting me. She wrote a letter of introduction-- oh-- one moment-- honestly, this thing really has _too many pockets_."

"Mae, you brilliant bitch, you are definitely my favourite." Varric says, to the air and to the mage now holding out a slightly crumpled letter towards him. He looks startled. "Don't mind me, talking to myself."

The letter, when he opens it, contains only a few lines:

_Varric,_

_Contents of package: one Rilienus Pacenti, late a scholar of the Circle at Minrathous.  
Care and feeding: oh, just lock him in a room with Dorian until they figure it out._

_Kisses,_

_Mae_

Varric has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "Well-- yes, this all appears to be in order. Cole?"

To his credit, Rilienus does not start as much as some Varric has seen when Cole pops back into existance. "He's in the library." Then he turns, naturally, his wide eyes on Rilienus. "You're the _same_. In words unspoken, in questions unasked. They can't help when you keep them on the inside."

Then he's gone again. "Wise words." Varric says. "Probably."

"One of my tutors once said," Rilienus responds, still staring at the spot where Cole was, "that with spirits it's more important to listen to the meaning than the words."

"Riight." Well, at least he doesn't seem bothered by Cole. That's something. Besides, Varric has something more important, and undoubtably highly amusing, to arrange. "Come on. I'll show you where the library is."

"Oh, you don't have to do that!" Rilienus peers past Varric. "I can probably find my way." A pause. "It is quite a _big_ castle."

"Trust me. I _definitely_ have to do this." What, and miss an actual reunion between long-lost sweethearts? Filled with torrid passion? (or at least the version Varric's planning to write will be.) Not a chance.

\-----

Dorian idly examines the newest additions to the Skyhold library and thinks that _really_ , they could have done with some of these back when the world was possibly ending. Right now, the Inquisition is up to its ears in fair-weather friends, though, and Dorian supposes they might as well make the most of it while they can.

After all, the Inquisitor (dear, dear woman that she is) does have a habit of poking her nose into places where there might be trouble, and Thedas still has plenty of trouble to go around. She'll probably need Dorian to help fix it.

And if he's to be honest about it, the longer he spends in the South, the less attractive a return to Tevinter seems. Maybe he's gotten too used to solving his problems by setting them on fire. (Admittedly, very cathartic). It's not that there's nothing he misses--

_He would have said yes_

Ah, Cole, but there's the rub, you see. Dorian always knew the answer. But what was the question?

Think of a demon and one appears; no sooner than his thoughts turn to Rilienus than Cole appears-- to dig them out of his head, no doubt. "You have to close your eyes."

"What?" Hmm. That's new.

"It's what you do for surprises!" Cole insists. "And I didn't have ribbons."

"We've been over this. Ribbons are for birthday presents. And it's not my birthday." Well, it rarely hurts anything other than his dignity to play along with Cole's games. He might as well. Dorian closes his eyes, and lets Cole guide him to a spot towards the edge of the library.

He hears footsteps, and then Varric. "Oh hey! Well done, kid."

Ah. That explains rather a lot. "Varric, whatever game this is--"

"Dorian."

He opens his eyes. Now _that_ has to be a hallucination, or some sort of fade dream. Because Rilienus is in Minrathous, safe and sound. Because Rilienus cannot walk down the street without coming out with some brilliant idea about the nature of the fade or some obscure factoid about elemental theory, and then walking into something while he's distracted by same, and therefore for him to make it to Skyhold in one piece would be nothing short of a minor miracle.

Because Dorian already made the decision, years ago, long before this mess all started, to keep his hands _off_. Because Rilienus is gentle and unassuming and brilliant in a way few people in Tevinter appreciate, and because Dorian could never have had just one night and then let him go again. Because Dorian would have ruined him, and Rilienus would have let him. _Because you would have said yes, you fool_.

But there he is, and this is not a dream because, to be frank, in dreams Rilienus does not wear outfits most generously described as 'sensible'. "We are not doing this with an audience." he snaps, and grabs Rilienus by the wrist-- ignoring whatever commentary Varric throws after them, something vulgar, undoubtedly.

Admittedly, grabbing Rilienus as soon as he seems him and dragging him off to Dorian's quarters is not the most subtle of moves, but it's not as if there's an excess of privacy to be had in Skyhold. "Shouldn't you be in the circle in Minrathous?"

Rilienus takes a step back, eyeing Dorian's quarters curiously. "Spent months wondering that, myself. Or-- you mean officially? I'm on sabbatical."

"That must have been an interesting bit of paperwork. Reason for sabbatical: _to associate with southern barbarians and treasonous deviants_."

"I just put 'family reasons', actually." Rilienus holds his gaze for a moment, butter-wouldn't-melt look on his face, and then the facade cracks and ah, there's the smile that Dorian fell in love with.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, because I am happy to see you-- but why are you here? Skyhold is no proper place for a scholar of the Minrathous circle." Already Dorian is thinking of who they can lean on - Tilani knows, obviously, Josephine will help, Rilienus's family are good people and have probably provided him with some sort of covering story already. There's probably a way to manage this without damaging Rilienus's reputation.

"Oh, I-- I mean, because--" Rilienus holds up one hand, the way he does sometimes when a word's on the tip of his tongue and he needs Dorian to give him a moment to find it. "I love you."

Dorian's thought process comes screeching to a halt. "What?"

Rilienus is staring at the rug, not Dorian. But he says it again. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you-- oh, that's funny, once you've said it once, it's actually quite easy. Like a cyclic enchantment, I suppose, once you've set it up, the spell is self-sustaining-- I mean, not perfectly, perpetual sustain is a myth--"

Dorian kisses him, then, because he can't not. And it is all the things it never was in dreams-- uncertain, hesitant and imperfect and _real_. Rilienus makes a soft noise of dismay when Dorian pulls back-- like he needs more, this man _will_ be the death of him, Dorian is sure of it.

"And to think," Rilienus says, eyes wide and dark "Every time you said _Rilienus, you're rambling_ , you could have been doing _that_ instead."

"How remiss of me," Dorian says, and kisses him again. And then, because to delay any longer would be terribly unfair, "I love you, Rilienus-- oh, you're right. I love you, I love you, you ridiculous creature. Do you know, I almost asked you to come with me?"

"And now?" Rilienus's eyes on him, determined. Hand clutching Dorian's sleeve like he half-fears Dorian might disappear.

"You have gotten shockingly bold all of a sudden. I think the southern air might be going to your head." He regrets the words immediately. He has to do this, doesn't he-- panic, open mouth, say something petty and cruel on reflex to stop anyone suspecting he has feelings like a real boy. 

Rilienus just smiles. "You talk like you're dueling sometimes. Attack first, clear yourself a space. You don't like giving your opponent the time to test your own defenses. I've known you since we were fifteen, Dorian. Do you think I don't know that much?"

 _Oh, I am going to ruin you in all the best ways_. Dorian takes a breath, slow and steady. This is real and can be real and all he needs to do is ask a question. He lifts his hand, mimicking Rilienus's old habit, and Rilienus nods and closes his eyes, silent, and waits. It still takes several more breaths before he can say it. "Stay with me?"

"Yes."


	2. Minrathous Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dorian meets a boy, falls in love, and then does nothing about it, because Tevinter.

Minrathous truth: a falsehood. In its original usage, specifically a falsehood which all involved are aware is false, but which nonetheless is maintained as if they believe it is true. Often, although incorrectly, believed to originate from the popular tragedy by Vitellius of the same name. Among the common people, however, regularly used to refer to a lie of any sort, c.f. 'magister's honesty'.  
\--from _Songs of the Soperati, or, A Guide to Modern Colloquial Tevene_

It's not precisely love at first sight. The first thing Dorian thinks when he sees Rilienus is, admittedly, _I can use him_.

The Vyrantium circle is the place you go to learn dueling, military strategy, and all forms of powerful magic you might need to protect the Imperium against its enemies. That's what they say. Dorian thinks this assertion mildly ridiculous, because the circle at Vyrantium is stuffed to the brim with the sons and daughters of Magisters who will never be on the front lines against the enemies of the Imperium, and most of the magic learned here will be used against each other.

Not that he doesn't play the game. There's a little clique of boys from Qarinus and other places in the Eastern Imperium, and Dorian plays on their feelings of superiority (the strong arm of the empire! the front line against the savage ox-men!) while also making sure to make plenty of alliances with those of his fellow students who are from Minrathous families, because he has no intention of whiling away his years as a provincial Magister like his father.

The only thing everyone in this pit of vipers agrees on is that the Minrathous circle is filled with useless academics who talk about magical theory all day but couldn't throw so much as a fireball if their life depended on it. So when one of their lecturers introduces Rilienus Pacenti, a talented student of the Minrathous circle who has been given special dispensation to access some historical texts in the local archive and will be under the care of the Vyrantium circle while he conducts his research, et cetera, he might as well be introducing a lamb to the wolves.

Dorian is fifteen, and he doesn't care about Rilienus Pacenti as a person, but he hears the name _Pacenti_ , thinks of a powerful Minrathous Altus family with not one but _several_ seats in the Senate to their name, and thinks _I can use him_. Rilienus' introductory speech dissolves into a burbling ramble about how interesting veilfire is, really, until the lecturer tells him that's fine, just sit down.

Dorian keeps one ear on the rest of the announcements while considering Rilienus-- skinny thing, looks like his nanny still dresses him, obviously clueless-- and how Dorian's going to leverage him. Getting him on side ought to be easy - some idiot will decide to give the poor boy a 'Vyrantium Welcome', and Dorian will step in, save the day, job done. Given luck, he can probably even spin it to whichever idiot he has to whomp that he stepped in to stop them getting kicked out of the circle, or something.

Unfortunately, having no respect for Dorian's plans, the head of the dormitory brings them all together while Rilienus is being given a tour of the library by the Tranquil. "There will be no rough-housing with the Pacenti boy. I know what you little shits are like. And don't imagine you can sneak anything past me, either."

So there goes plan _your brave hero_. In addition to which, Rilienus is not actually attending any of the classes here, so he's barely around. Dorian sees him drifting through the corridors, usually with a Tranquil or two following, holding his notes or whatever. Sometimes he chatters to them-- or at them. He certainly talks to the Tranquil a lot more than he does anybody else.

In the evenings, when he's in the dorm, he reads. So does Dorian, granted, but not so-- openly ignoring all social conventions. Neither flirting (mainly from that cluster of Laetan girls who don't care about the 'youngest son' part of Rilienus' family background) nor insults seem to leave any dent.

One of the few times he responds is when one of Dorian's stupider dorm-mates practically shoves a handful of fire under his nose, asking "Hey Minrathous, do you even know what this _is_?"

Rilienus blinks a couple of times, finally looking up from his book. "A poorly executed variant of Vicelli's palm of flame technique. Try to channel more mana along the inside edge, you'll get a more even burn that way."

"Are you _fucking_ with me?"

Rilienus blinks again, tilts his head a little. "You asked me to identify what spell you were using."

 _He is absolutely, definitely fucking with you_ Dorian decides. Nobody can be that clueless. When the palm-of-flame looks like it's about to turn into fist-of-flame right in Rilienus' face, Dorian is the one to raise his hand and snuff it out. The idiot turns on him immediately. "Pavus, you _shit_. Don't interfere."

"Pardon me for not wanting the smell of burnt Minrathous wafting through the dorms before dinner." Dorian drawls, as dismissively as he can manage. "Or to have the _entire_ dorm getting punished because you can't take constructive criticism. Pacenti, do us all a favour and demonstrate the _correct_ technique so the matter can be put to rest, would you?"

Rilienus looks puzzled. "Oh-- if you'd like." He holds out his left hand and fire flickers into life, perfectly even. Textbook, one might say.

"There we go. How do you make fire boring? Is it a gift?" Dorian looks Rilienus over exaggeratedly, playing to his audience. "I mean, not that it's surprising to find out you have no idea of the concept of _flair_."

Snickers and giggling all around. Rilienus' only response is to let the fire dancing on his palm die out, and returns to his book as if he considers the matter over. The idiot storms off, taking the time to say "You'll get yours, Pavus."

"You're welcome to try." Dorian calls after him, merrily. Like there aren't already a half-dozen people in that queue. The main thing the Vyrantium circle teaches is actually a sharpened sense of paranoia. And good reflexes.

* * *

He catches Rilienus in the library, a couple of days later. He means to make some joke about _aren't you going to say thank you?_ , but the diagram Rilienus is sketching catches his eyes and what actually comes out is "There's no way that will work."

Rilienus looks up at him. He's actually rather good looking, when you get past the outfits; Dorian has recently decided to give up on trying not to notice when men are attractive, in favour of the rather more easy to carry off pretending that he isn't noticing. "It will work."

Dorian slides into the neighbouring seat. "There's _no way_ it can. This, here-- this connection. How are you fixing it? It's going to flip around and the Fade will slap you right in the face."

"Ah, but--" Rilienus flips a couple of pages back in the book he's using. "Here. This goes first. Then you have to use a stasis field--"

"To stablilise the secondary glyphs during the casting? You'd still have to be pretty fast. What happens if you don't get it done before your field starts to disintegrate?"

"Bad things." Rilienus says, in a heartfelt way. "I'm actually not supposed to try these out without someone to assist. It was just a thought. Why are you talking to me?"

The last is so blunt that Dorian struggles to find an answer. "I can't just chat?"

"People don't just talk to me. Mother told someone to tell you all to leave me alone, I suppose. She does that a lot." Rilienus shrugs. "You intervened before, but that could have been because you didn't like that boy or you didn't want him to get in trouble. Now you're talking to me. Please tell me why. Not lies like _I want to be your friend_. People don't want to be my friend. I'm difficult. And also, not stupid."

It all comes out in a sort of staccato, even tone but uneven tempo, and Dorian isn't cruel enough that he can hear _People don't want to be my friend_ , said as a flat statement of fact, and at least feel a little sorry for Rilienus. So he tells the truth. "I'm hoping to land a good apprenticeship in Minrathous when I've completed my training here. The more connections I can make in the capital, the better. Simple as that. That said, now I'm also curious to see if you really could pull this off." He taps his index finger against the offending part of Rilienus' notes. "I still think it's going to blow up in your face, but at least it would be a more interesting type of explosion then we usually see around here."

"It will work." Rilienus insists, but he smiles.

By the time Rilienus leaves Vyrantium Dorian thinks all kinds of things. Quite often: _that's either brilliant, or madness_ , and _how does he get ink on his collar? and on his boots? how does that even work?_ and, admittedly, _really must stop staring at his mouth when he smiles_. Then sometimes _never mentions any friends back home, just that Tranquil he's so fond of_ or _do his family really imagine they can just lock him up in a circle out of harm's way his entire life, like some sort of southern apostate?_

Rilienus rambles on about how Dorian must, must, must come to see him in Minrathous and oh, he will have to send over a copy of that book he was talking about, he thinks there's a duplicate copy in his father's library, and will Dorian show him the silverite mines if he comes to Qarinus, because he has a theory. Dorian promises to write to him. "You are the most _awful_ , Pavus", one of the girls (nominally a friend) says, giggling. "I don't know how you put up with him."

" _Pacenti_ ," Dorian says. " _Five_ senate seats now, isn't it? A little rambling about veilfire is hardly a great thing to endure."

Lies like ash on his tongue, but everyone believes them.

* * *

When they are nineteen, the woman everyone refers to as "Rilienus' pet Tranquil" dies. It's not precisely unexpected-- she was rather elderly, and Dorian thinks the Pacenti family probably owned the woman since well before Rilienus' birth. Ava, her name was. Usually to be found in Rilienus' workshop at home, fetching books or collating notes or handling some of the duller preparation work for Rilienus' experiments. Dorian rather thinks that if his mother hadn't undoubtedly put her foot down over the manner, Rilienus would have wandered about all of Minrathous with Ava in tow, talking to her about his research and ignoring all forms of actual social interaction with actual people.

Rilienus is devastated, like a small child who has just lost his puppy. Dorian understands _why_ \-- he's not completely heartless. Rilienus is much better at dealing with people than he was at fifteen, which Dorian would like to take a large part of the credit for, but he gets impatient with small talk and still does not know what flirting is and will, occasionally, open his mouth and say something that is both entirely true and utterly inappropriate to be said aloud (even if Dorian is quite often thinking the same thing). Ava was a safe outlet, Dorian supposes, for Rilienus to ramble at with no fear of rejection or offence being taken.

Dorian intends to be there for his friend, but first he has to get Rilienus to actually let him in. "He's locked himself in his workshop." one of Rilienus' brothers had said, eyeing Dorian the way all Rilienus' family do, a sort of wary approval. "Make sure he knows it's you. Idris was stupid enough to suggest we just replace the Tranquil, and he threw a tantrum, set fire to her dress, shattered three windows, and stormed off. The door's trapped with some sort of peculiar combination ward which froze the cook when she tried to take him lunch and responds very angrily to any attempts to dispel it."

"Oh, he got that working, then." Dorian had responded, airily, while thinking angry things about Rilienus' sister-in-law.

"Just see if you can get him calmed down. You're good with him, and at least semi-trustworthy, I suppose."

A grand compliment, coming from one of Rilienus' overprotective siblings. So Dorian finds himself standing in front of the door to Rilienus' workshop, eyeing the ward, which _is_ looking rather angry. What a time for Rilienus to have one of his clever moments. Dorian did see the preliminary attempts at this one but there's some clearly some twist in the tail here that he hasn't discussed with Dorian. Since he'd rather not end up a block of ice, thank you, he tries just words instead. "Rilienus?" No answer. No particular worry - Dorian thinks he knows how he can get this open. "Interesting scheme. Although, I don't see why your brother had so much trouble with it. If I just sever the connection between the lower frost glyph and the primary underlay, it ought to--"

He doesn't have to do anything. The ward disappears so fast Dorian barely has time to blink. "Oh, am I allowed in now?" he asks, pushing the door open.

"If you'd done _that_ it would have--"

"Blown up in my face? So nice to know you care." Dorian surveys the damage - a little mess, not nearly as bad as he was expecting. Then again, there are a lot of Rilienus' favourite books and experiments in here, and no matter how bad this supposed tantrum had been he can't imagine Rilienus doing anything that would hurt a book. "Not particularly flattered that you actually believed I'd be that stupid, though."

So the room is fine. Rilienus is a bit of a mess, though. The word _bedraggled_ comes to mind. "I don't want to talk about it." he says, voice rough, eyes red. "What can you say that they didn't, Dorian? You're sorry I'm upset but you're not sorry she's dead because she was just a Tranquil and they're all the same and they don't matter. I should dry my eyes and go back to my family and tell the sort of lies that should make everyone happy. Even though everyone would know it was a lie. The glorious _Imperium_." His voice is underlined with more bitterness than Dorian had thought Rilienus was even capable of. "The most perfect civilization, the most powerful mages, and everyone spends all their time lying to each other like they think the sky will fall down if we ever just admit the _truth_. Why?"

The question hits Dorian unexpectedly. Because Rilienus is right; that's how Minrathous is, swimming in Minrathous truths. How all Tevinter is. _It's not an insurmountable problem, my darling. You can pick a favourite, just be discreet about it. You wouldn't be the first. Let's not tell your Father._

"I don't know." he admits, which is the truth. "And I am sorry for your loss, if only because you are my friend and I don't like seeing you hurt. I can't say anything more without it being a lie."

Rilienus nods, slowly. "Thank you." He turns away, vaguely gesturing at the room. "I suppose I should clean this up."

It's only when he moves that Dorian sees the little heap of something smoldering on the floor. Books? Notes? Rilienus burnt his _notes_? "Rilienus, what on earth--"

"They're not all the same, though." Rilienus says, sadly. "I thought I might be able to-- never could-- it doesn't matter now, anyway."

Dorian helps him clean up, doesn't suggest they call someone to do it for them, and doesn't ask about it again. That's all he really can do.

* * *

Twenty years old is Dorian, half-drunk, complaining about his father shoving Livia at him every chance he gets, and Rilienus saying, evenly, "Does he not know you like men?"

They're in Rilienus' quarters, with a few of bottles of wine and half a dozen texts of varying quality, playing _take a drink for every incorrect statement, finish the glass if the author mentions the glory of the Imperium_ , which is a good way to get quite drunk quite fast. Therefore, it's private, and Dorian does not need to panic about somebody overhearing.

He does panic, anyway, because Rilienus _knows_? "You--"

"For a couple years, maybe? One of my brothers told me."

Dorian puts two and overprotective together, and snorts. "Your brother checked if I'd attempted to rob you of your virtue, you mean. And you never said anything about this to me?"

Rilienus shrugs, suddenly looking evasive. "It's not an easy topic to bring up."

Rilienus doesn't talk about that sort of thing. Doesn't flirt, doesn't even look at anyone in particular, not pretty girls, not pretty boys. It occurs to Dorian, for the first time, that he does look at Dorian quite a lot. _Interested. Or at least curious_. It occurs to him, in his drunken state, that Dorian has never had much trouble getting Rilienus to follow along with his plans. That Rilienus is within arms reach, and that if Dorian were to lean over and kiss him now, that Rilienus would very likely let him get away with it. That all the things Dorian has learnt from Soperati boys in dark corners of bars Dorian isn't supposed to know exist-- that Rilienus might let him get away with those, too.

Suddenly, the room is quite hot. "I need to get much more drunk." Dorian announces, by way of changing the subject, and grabs for one particular book that has only one redeeming feature - that in combination with this game it's a very amusing way to drink until you pass out.

"Is that-- are you trying to _kill_ me?" Rilienus laughs.

 _No._ Dorian thinks. _I would never hurt you_.

He makes it a promise to himself. He might not be able to stomach the thought of marrying Livia or stop himself from disgracing his family name but he _can_ make sure he doesn't drag Rilienus down with him. Rilienus is going to be a scholar at the Minrathous circle. He'll be famed for his research and will educate a great number of adoring students who, with any luck, will pick up some of his honesty and kindness alongside all the brilliant magic Rilienus will teach them.

Dorian would let a Qunari put him on a leash before he'd let himself be the one to fuck that up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few things that happened _after_

They talk for hours. Well, mostly talk-- Dorian can't resist sneaking a kiss, or three, or nine, or who's counting, really. It's not like Rilienus isn't sneaking a few back, when he's not letting confessions pour from his mouth as if he's trying to make up for all the years of silence, penance for every time he lied to Dorian, even if it was only by omission.

It appears that Dorian needs to send Mae something nice, perhaps a bottle of something with a card reading _for being unable to keep your damn nose out of my business-- thank you_.

Eventually, though, he has to face facts. "We really need to go explain the situation to the Inquisitor."

"Mmm?" Rilienus looks supremely uninterested in anything that involves lifting his head off Dorian's lap. Frankly, it's a good look on him. "Master Tethras has my letter of introduction from Magister Tilani. I'm sure he's told the appropriate people."

" _Precisely_ what I am worried about." Dorian tells him. Let Varric spread his version of events through Skyhold? Phrases like _swept off his feet_ will probably be involved. "Besides, I want to introduce you to everyone myself."

"To your friends." Rilienus says, with a slightly worried look.

"Don't worry, amatus." Oh-- and that just slipped out, but the word feels so good on his tongue, and Rilienus responds by sitting up and kissing it from his lips. It is a little while longer before Dorian is able to finish what he wanted to say. "I am sure they will all _adore_ you."

* * *

There is a small group of familiar faces sitting about at the base of the stairs when they emerge. Blackwall grins and says "I think that's my win.", and Sera and Varric both groan as he sweeps a small pot of coins off the makeshift table and pockets them.

"You _bet_ on us?" Dorian asks.

"On how long it would take you to stop bumping bits." Sera says, grinning. "I thought you'd be done sooner. Varric said longer."

"What can I say? I'm a romantic."

"We were _talking_." Dorian tells them, not particularly annoyed.

Sera snorts. "Right. I'm sure. Something with your mouths, anyway."

Dorian did _try_ to get them straightened up before they left his rooms, but he supposes there's no hiding how well-kissed Rilienus looks. Also, he'd like to savour the phrase _well-kissed Rilienus_ for a bit, but perhaps he should get on with the introductions before the subtle nervous vibration he can feel where said adorable, well-kissed mage is pressed against his side gets any worse. "Rilienus, these are some of my fellow Inquisition misfits. The one with the unfortunate facial hair is Blackwall, the elf is Sera, and I believe you've already met Varric."

There's a general chorus of greetings (and a little bit of complaining about being referred to as 'the elf'). "The Inquisitor is holed up in the war table room talking Orlesian politics. She said to bring you over whenever you were ready." Varric says. "Specifically, she said _please come save me from talk about Orlesian politics_. Everyone else is already over there."

"Everyone?" Rilienus says, quietly but with mild dismay. "How many is _everyone_?"

"Don't worry." Varric says, before Dorian can explain. "We're a friendly bunch, for the most part. If you can keep Sparkler here from moping all over the library, that's a point in your favour already."

"I was not--" Dorian starts, before Rilienus' soft laugh cuts across him. "Rilienus?"

" _Sparkler_." Rilienus says, and dissolves into hysterics. "Maker, that's _perfect_."

"Always good to meet a fan." Varric says, with a grin, and Dorian is too glad to see Rilienus shaking with laughter rather than nervous anticipation to hold it against him.

* * *

There is the delicate matter of Rilienus' _experience_. Dorian presumed he had little, and would not like to admit to the dark, possessive pleasure that strikes him when Rilienus admits the answer is none. "Well, not in the usual sense, at least." he adds.

"That statement definitely requires clarification." Dorian tells him.

Rilienus lowers his gaze, letting his hair fall over his face. "These books just sort of turned up, one day. In the middle of some others I'd   
ordered."

"Naughty books?" Dorian has no problem with where this is apparently going.

A small nod. "They were quite-- educational. There were diagrams. And spells and enchantments. The enchantments were a little-- well. I improved them some."

Still really no problem where with this is going. " _Enchantments_? Enchanted what?"

Rilienus looks up again. "Remember the time you came over to borrow my copy of Veneficus Serpentium and while you were looking for it you found that piece of summer-stone you said looked like--?" He makes an abortive hand gesture, but Dorian doesn't need any help remembering.

He might need some help stopping himself from obsessively visualising Rilienus-- Dorian takes a breath. "Yes. I remember."

"I used to use it after we'd been out together." Rilienus continues, perhaps oblivious to the fact that Dorian's control is hanging by a thread. "You'd touch me more, when you'd been drinking. You'd flirt, like you thought I wouldn't notice. I always noticed. Every time you touched me like that, I'd go home and--"

Dorian pins Rilienus to the bed at that point, kissing the breath out of him because _sweet Maker_. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he asks, trying to reel himself back in. _What are you doing, Pavus?_ He needs to control himself, let Rilienus set the pace.

But Rilienus just meets his eyes; a look like a challenge, a smile. "None at all. Completely mystified. Maybe you should demonstrate."

* * *

Most people at Skyhold like Rilienus. Dorian is not surprised by that. That it's most, and not all-- well, he's not entirely surprised by that either. So when Bull turns up at the library with Rilienus in tow, the two of them looking mildly exasperated and slightly apologetic respectively, he sighs internally and braces himself for whatever it is this time.

"Dorian," Bull says, by way of greeting. "I know he means well, but is there any way to make him stop talking? Dalish was on the verge of shanking him."

"I know _one_ way." Dorian replies, primly, "but if anybody other than me tries it they will find themselves with a small _being on fire_ problem."

Rilienus gives them both a mournful, kicked-puppy look. "I'm sorry if I caused offence. It's just-- it's so interesting, the conceptualisation of magic as something that's not magic. The potential effects it has on the way you cast. When you think about it, most pedagogical theory in Tevinter presumes a student has been raised with an understanding of the principles of magic, well before they actually come into their own-- which is true for someone who's Altus and for a large percentage of Laetan students, but not always, and the ramifications for the way we teach--"

"Right," Dorian says gently. "But next time, around Dalish? Just say _archery_ , would you? Think of it as practice at taking somebody else's perspective. Why were you even at the tavern?"

"I was looking for the apothecary." Rilienus admits, shame-faced.

"In this case, maybe you should reconsider your stance on leashes." Bull suggests. "Just saying."

* * *

"And then he fainted." Dagna says cheerfully. "But until then we were having a great time!"

"There were _samples_ of _things_. _Bits_ of _things_."

"Why were you even _in_ the Undercroft?"

* * *

Dorian is really not inclined to move; that would require disturbing Rilienus, who is snuggled into his side and lost deep within the pages of something obscure.

He would, however, quite like it if there was something within arms reach to throw at Varric that wasn't a book. "Stop taking notes."

"You can't suppress the artistic spirit, Sparkler."

* * *

"Cullen Rutherford, you tart, are you playing chess with other men?" Dorian pouts. "After all we've been through together."

" _Everyone_ in Tevinter cheats, was it?" Cullen waves his hand at the board, and at his opponent, who smiles benignly and then moves a knight in a way that makes Cullen lean forward and wince.

"Rilienus is abnormally honest." Dorian drapes himself over the side of Rilienus' chair, as close to actually being in Rilienus' lap as he can get without interrupting the game. "It's one of his failings. Warning: he is also some sort of impossible savant. Although I see you've already discovered that for yourself."

"Savant means you don't have to study." Rilienus says, absentmindedly. "It doesn't mean _studied chess instead of studying cheating at chess and spending all your time relying on flirting your opponent into making a mistake_."

"So cruel." Dorian says, over the top of Cullen's laughter.

"Words have _meanings_ , Dorian."

* * *

"You need to go north." Cole says, helpfully. "Um-- no, the other north. _No_. Should I get Dorian?"

* * *

"I am not sure this is right." Rilienus calls, from inside the dressing room. "Did I mention that nice clothes make me nervous? I spill things."

"Just come out and let us see," Josephine coaxes. "It's only Dorian and I. I'm sure it's fine."

"I have been awaiting this moment for _weeks_." Dorian says. "I picked the design, I picked the fabric, Josephine supplied a tailor worthy of hearing my opinions-- it will be more than _fine_. Now come out here and let me see the result."

Rilienus' head pokes out of the door, followed, slowly and uncertainly, by the rest of him. "It fits. It's just very--" He waves a hand vaguely, clearly struggling to find a word to describe the outfit in it's entirety. 

Josephine beamed. "Oh, it's _good_."

"Maybe a little _too_ good." Dorian mused. "Maybe he could wear one of his usual robes to the Winter Palace instead. One of those sacklike things that covers up all his charms."

" _Dorian_." Josephine says, with a warning look.

"Oh, all right." Dorian steps forward to smooth the silk down over Rilienus' shoulders, not entirely necessarily. "You look lovely. But I need to see the others before we make a final decision."

"Others?"

* * *

They're late back to Skyhold, due to minor unscheduled delays (no, Inquisitor, that's fine, Dorian just loves having to fight random angry wildlife because his Glorious Leader is a trouble-magnet). There's no fanfare for their arrival, just a guard who nods politely, breath clouding the air. Dorian is bone-tired, and a brief scrub down at camp did little better than to move the dirt around and make him _colder_. The time must be-- well, too late to warrant calling for hot water, anyway. Or even a bath's worth of cold water, although he's not sure he's in the mood for the surprisingly subtle art of getting the temperature _just so_.

So it is with resignation that he carefully pushes the door to their quarters open - Rilienus won't complain, dear thing, but Dorian really hates going to bed without his bath. He puts up with it when they're out in the field, out of necessity, but when the facilities are available they should be taken advantage of. As he keeps trying to explain to certain Qunari of his acquaintance.

He lights a lamp, keeping the flame low, and pauses. There's the usual clutter-- Rilienus is set on turning their quarters into a second library-- and also a bath. A _warm_ bath, when he dips his fingers into it. Also, at one end, a stool with a clean towel, a new bar of soap, and a slightly damp note on it. Not signed, but Dorian would recognise that handwriting anywhere.

_Cyclic enchantment! Scouts said you'd be late, but should still be okay._

It looks like paper torn out of one of Rilienus' workbooks, and sure enough, when he turns it over, there's a mess of scribbles, half-formed rune circles and glyphs crossed out and brief, semi-cryptic notes. _Ask Dagna?_ _efficient but not stable_ , and, slightly worrying, the single word _CEILING_ next to a heavily crossed out diagram.

When he gets to the bottom of the page there's a final line, more carefully written:  
 _Dorian, stop reading my notes and take your bath so you can come to bed._

The temperature, when he slips into the bath, is _just so_. The soap smells like the spice market in Qunaris, which Dorian still remembers with fondness even if he no longer thinks of it as home. Normally he would linger-- well, what used to be normal for those times when his bed was always much colder than the bath.

These days, though, his bed comes pre-warmed by Rilienus, who murmurs "How was--?" as Dorian tries to slip under the covers without waking him.

"Muddy and violent. I'll tell you the rest in the morning, go back to sleep."

A warm bed, and somebody to share it with, and suddenly there's no such thing as cold in the world. Dorian could get used to being used to this.


End file.
